The Revolution
by v-The-Navigator-v
Summary: Leila Staffer was living her normal life, until it split in half, the cause being her dad's death from being hit by a car. She feels that no one will save her from the deep depression pit she might fall into. But, the rapture takes place, and who saves her? Her idol, Michael Jackson! They quickly develop a relationship in this story that is unexplainable! Want to know more? READ!


Chapter 1

"There's a red light. Stop there. Stop there, Leila. JESUS, LEILA, STOP!"

I somehow passed my Restricted License test. I'm still in shock as to how I passed, but I did. There's my dad, yelling at me again for not stopping at a red light when I did. Typical father – doesn't – want – teenage - daughter – to – grow – up – problems. No biggie.

"Dad, I know how to drive, okay? Stop acting so freakish."

I could see the beads of sweat rolling down his face as he concentrated more on teaching me how to drive. "Freakish? That's all you got?" He turned to face me, his smile crooked. "Honey, start using more complex words, like, uh, 'faggoty', or 'gay', something like that." I laughed at the thought that my dad was trying to act all cool and slick.

"Dad, those aren't even **close **to what words I'm thinking of right now. Your use of the modern teen slang isn't cool."

He folded his arms. "Hmph, guess I'll have to go on the Urban Dictionary more often _it's on the next right _and study."

"Please do that, if you're going to continue to teach me how to drive."

I pulled in to the Taco Bell parking lot and turned off the engine.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." I said to him. He shouted **Big Box! **as I went in.

It wasn't really packed, which was usual. I ordered the usual, too: A $2 deal, with grilled chicken instead of shredded, Doritos, and a Pepsi for me. My dad always got the $5 box, and a couple of bean burritos, and a diet Pepsi (he doesn't like regular sodas) for him, and some cinnamon twists for the sisters.

This time, the atmosphere was different, which NEVER happened. Everyone seemed…. zombified, almost. Unaware of my surroundings, I walked up to the cash register.

"Uh, hello? Harry?"

There was no one there.

"Hellooo!"

No answer. I started to get worried.

I turned around and saw a man sitting a couple of feet from me.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up. "Hm?"

"Where's the cashiers?"

He shrugged and went back to eating.

I knew one of the cashiers. Harry Gilbert. Born in Little Rock, Arkansas. Wanted to start his own rock band. He told me that he wanted to go to college to get a B.S. in Music Composing, but didn't have the money.

"_Why don't you have the money? Aren't your parents rich or something?"_

_He nodded, "Yeah, but they're assholes about it. They're so freaking stingy, that they made me pay for everything I wanted, even my Christmas presents."_

"_They didn't - ?"_

"_Nope. Didn't buy me one single gift."_

"_When did this start?"_

_He sighed. "When I got my first job, about 16."_

_My eyes widened._

"_And you're - ?"_

"_23. Yeah, I know. Big 'whoa'."_

_It made me feel so grateful to have parents that actually cared about me._

I quickly snapped into reality, hearing sirens in the distance. I gave up then, and went back to the car. I noticed that my dad had gone into the 7 – eleven next door, and grabbed some food from there. I decided to just wait until he got back out, so I got into the car, passenger seat this time.

My dad came out with 2 hot dogs and 2 extra-large coke slurpees.

I stuck the key in the ignition, and unlocked the door. My dad gave me a surprising look, almost like a look he gave me a couple of weeks ago, when I dropped his phone, and cracked it.

My bad.

He opened the car door, got in, and closed it forcefully.

"Don't make me go in there again." He said sternly, his jaw clenched.

I could tell he was pissed off about something, I just didn't know what.

He handed me the hot dog and the slurpee, then recognized the seat he was in.

"Why the hell am I in YOUR seat? Aren't you supposed to be driving this thing?"

"I'm tired out, dad. You had me driving around all day."

"BULLSHIT!"

He suddenly snapped and hit the steering wheel.

"Dad, what the-"

"BULLSHIT, LEILA, BULLSHIT!"

There was silence, then, in the most sympathetic voice, he apologized.

"What the hell…is wrong with you?" I asked.

"Leila, look, I'm-"

"Get out."

"What?"

" . .Car."

"You can't-"

"NOW!" I shouted as loud as I could, standing my ground. I had enough.

"I WILL NOT SIT HERE AND LET YOU YELL AT ME LIKE I'M SOME GODDAMN CHILD! I'M 16, DAMNIT!"

He looked at me with sympathy, and got out as quickly as he could.

"How are you getting home?" He asked, as I turned on the car and rolled down the window.

"I'll drive myself."

"You don't have your license."

"So? I don't care. I'll just say 'Hey, officer. Sorry I'm not driving with an adult, my dad's just an absolute dick'."

He wasn't there when I got home. Again, the atmosphere was weird. It's like it travels from one place to another without warning, in my case. When I walked in the front door, my mother was in a fetal position, balling her eyes out, and holding a picture of him to her chest. My expression then changed from angry to deeply worried. I ran over to her and helped her up.

"What's wrong, mama?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue and shook her head.

"Your father….h-he…"

She stopped mid – sentence and broke down more.

"He's gone."

That's when it hit me.

"He got hit by a car. He called me before that and said goodbye, and that he loved us. He killed himself, Leila."

I was in complete and utter shock. It took a moment for me to soak it all it, to finally realize that there were so many things that we could've done as a family together.

Suddenly hit by this wave of melancholy emotions, I ran to my room and shut the door. All of those emotions and other things that were bottled up inside me, came pouring out like a waterfall. I hit the wall a couple of times; I was at war with being sad or mad, so I let both of them decide.

I then slumped at the foot of my bed, my head starting to hurt.

"Why do you do this to me?" I said, looking up, talking to God.

"I could've worked this out."

There was no more room from crying. I limited myself, mostly.

I decided to take a walk outside to make myself feel better, so I did.

I sat on the porch and looked up at the sky, wondering if my dad would give a sign to show that he was okay, but to no avail.

I was about to cry again when I heard a noise. It wasn't just any type of noise. It sounded like a large bass drum, about the size of a gong. _Where have I heard these before? _I looked around. Nothing in sight, which was weird, and a little creepy.

A minute later, it stopped. Nothing. Silence was the only sound. It was the type of silence that made your ear go weird. A better example would be the silence before thunder.

A couple of minutes went by, and still nothing.

I was about to go back into the house, when a deafening, high – frequency trumpet orchestra sounded, causing me to cup my ears and fall to the ground. Thankfully, there were no broken bones, just bruised buttocks.

Orange lights that looked like comets shot across the sky at top speed. I know, you may think I was on acid or something, but I wasn't. This was the real deal. I'm sayin', the big J was here, in the flesh!

"Whoa, you okay?" A soft voice asked me. I looked behind me to find the man I thought I'd never meet. My idol. My personal superstar. My "bae" in my imagination. Yes, it was Michael Jackson.

We both smiled at each other. "Looks like you took a pretty hard fall, there."

I blushed. I couldn't believe he just watched my fall on my ass. No embarrassment there.

"Yeah, I don't know if I'll be able to use the restroom properly again." I replied jokingly.

He laughed and held out his hand. "Need help?"

I nodded and took it. He then pulled me up.

God, he was gorgeous. And those angel wings just made me melt. He had his image from 1989. Black, curly hair, dressed in all white, he looked absolutely stunning.

"So….?"

I quickly snapped out of it.

"What? Sorry, I was just, uh…" I trailed off, not wanting to tell him.

"Leila, I can read your mind. No need to explain." He chuckled.

"So, you're not freaked out?"

"Of course not! What you think of me is completely romantic. You even have the whole afterlife planned if you and I got together. I'm impressed."

I blushed again. This time, my cheeks were beet red.

"What I'm ALSO impressed about is that you've managed to keep your cool around me. You call yourself my number 1 fan, right?"

I nodded again, not knowing what to say. I looked down.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, okay? I actually like what you think of me."

I then looked up.

"Really?"

"Yes."

I smiled and put some hair behind my ear.

"Wait, so why are you here? Aren't you dead?"

He pretended to hold a microphone and acted like a game show host.

"Leila Staffer! You have just earned yourself, through good deeds and not going to jail of course, a FREE one – way ticket to Heaven!"

My eyes widened, and put my hands over my mouth. I then started crying. Not tears of sadness, of course, I was just so gosh darn happy.

He came up and hugged me. _You're safe, now._ He whispered in my ear.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted us up off the ground. I opened my eyes and held on to him as tight as I could, fearing that I might fall.

"Don't worry, I got you." He giggled.

I didn't open my eyes for a long time. By the time I did, we were at the gates.


End file.
